


Starting Over

by LanieDawn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Wick, F/M, Police Officer Bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanieDawn/pseuds/LanieDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke hasn't had to cope with death before, and the loss of her father has her spiraling. She doesn't know what to do. But now that her mother has moved them across the country, she's in a new town where no one knows her - and no one knows her problems. So she's going to let loose, and she's going to drink.</p><p>***On hiatus until I'm inspired enough to put out a quality chapter... literally every time I've written the next chapter it is not good enough***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Meet

**A/N: I haven't written in a while, but I caught the Bellarke bug and it has made me trash. I am trash. Like seriously, watching this show has reignited a creative spark in me. This is short, and I will probably expound on this. But I needed to get it out there.**

**I own nothing.**

* * *

She felt herself grimace as she swallowed the shot. The whiskey burned as it moved through her body, but each drink pushed the hurt further and further away. At least no one knew her here, two thousand miles away from home. Clarke toyed with the glass as she set it back onto the counter.

"Need another one?"

The bartender's gravely voice startled her out of her reverie. Clarke gave a small smile and a stiff nod before the man slid the glass in front of her behind the bar, giving a stiff pour of their well before slipping the glass back in front of her.

"You know, most people use their bartenders like therapists. You're new to our hole in the wall, but Landsdowne isn't that big a town. Whatever your drama – it'll get back to me," the man gave her a quick wink before turning back to some of the other patrons at the end of the bar.

Clarke gave a small sigh before picking up the glass, holding it to her lips for a moment before letting the liquid slide down her throat. Two months. It had only taken two months for her perfect life to completely fall apart. She had been happy in Phoenix – sure Arizona was stiflingly hot and her parents were rarely home, but the three of them had been happy. Her mother was respected doctor at a large hospital, and her dad was an environmental engineer for the city. She had Wells – her best friend, she wasn't popular at school, but people liked her. She was safe.

And then there was the accident at her mother's work, Abby had been exposed to a potentially HIV+ patient's blood, and she was required to get tests before she could be around her other patients – her father had rushed to her side as soon as he got the call. Jake had tried to rush to her side anyway. It was a late night, the roads were dark and in his hurry to get to his wife, Jake hadn't paid as close attention to the road as he otherwise should have. And he'd been T-boned – died instantly on impact. Abby found out as soon as they brought him into the E.R. She watched as they had pronounced him dead on arrival. She didn't cry, but she did wonder how on Earth she was going to tell Clarke.

The funeral had been small – everyone murmuring their respects and giving regrets. Clarke just felt numb and foggy, like she was watching her life without actually being there. Her mother told her about the move after everyone had left. So here she was in this backwater Virginia town, at a hole in the wall bar. Thank God she and Wells had gotten fake I.D.'s their junior year.

So she drank, and no one questioned it.

Raising her hand to the bartender, she smiled as he sidled up to her. She heard his voice as he took the empty shot glass from in front of her, "Ready for another?"

"I think three shots of cheap whiskey in less than 10 minutes would probably down a heavier drinker than me." He chuckled at her bad joke before she continued, "So another shot is a no, but I would take a whiskey coke and a water?"

"Done pretty lady –"

"Clarke," she didn't know why – but she needed someone to know her name, even if she couldn't be herself.

"Alright Clarke, let me grab a glass and I'll get them right to you."

And so she drank. She'd down a strong glass of whiskey with a splash of coke, all while sipping on a glass of water every once in a while, flirt with the ever present bartender and whichever patron wanted to buy her next round all while trying to politely tell them there was no chance in hell she'd be going home with them tonight. Soon enough she was definitely not sober. And that was when she saw him walk into the bar.

He was tall – at least six inches taller than her – with dark, tousled waves of hair. Even across the bar she could see the smattering of freckles across his face and god damn did she want to trace them. Giving her head a quick shake, she turned back to her drink, only to come eye to eye with the blonde man behind the counter.

"So Cinderella finally found a Prince she won't turn away?" The grin on his face was more than a little obnoxious, "Prince Charming came alone. Let me see what I can do." And with a wink he walked away. Clarke groaned as she saw him approach the new face, and let her head fall into her arms, hiding herself from view. In this position she could pretend that she wasn't drunk, that a bartender wasn't hitting on a stranger for her, and that she doesn't see the shoes walk up and stop next to her. Clarke clenched her eyes and shook her head as she sat up only to come face to face with the stranger.

"Well hello there Princess." She wanted to smack the smug smile off of his face.

"Princess?" Clarke felt her eyebrow arch as she asked the question.

"Wick wouldn't tell me your name, said that would be too easy. That if I wanted to buy Cinderella a drink, I'd have to suck it up and do it myself," he laughed as he made eye contact with the man behind the bar. Clarke felt the wave of understanding wash over her. She'd been drinking for almost three straight hours and couldn't remember the bartenders name for the life of her. That's when she heard his voice again, "So what brings a pretty girl like you to this god-forsaken place."

Clarke had heard this question so many times, from so many different men, and yet she felt herself smile, "Just moved here. All the way from sunny Arizona, and I needed a drink."

The man gave a laugh, "And that brought you to this Irish shit-hole?"

"I like places like this. I came from a big city – so places with character like this? When you can find them you keep them close." She took another sip from her glass, never one to let her buzz fade.

He cocked his head to the side and put his hand on the bar, "Bellamy Blake. Let me buy you another drink."

"Clarke. And if you're buying whiskey, I'd be more than willing to oblige you."

* * *

**And there it is. Reviews are most welcome.**


	2. They Talk

**A/N: I own nothing.**

* * *

Clarke felt her level of sober fluctuate throughout the night. As soon as she felt the urge to do something stupid – like shut the man sitting next to her up with her lips – she would pick up the glass of water and drink until it was gone. That always got Bellamy to smile. It was almost like he took a perverse pleasure in the fact that she wanted to be sober around him. The bastard was nursing his third beer so slowly that she would be surprised if the damn thing wasn't warm already.

"So after two hours, this is what I know," Clarke's eyebrow raised at his words and watched as he used his fingers to tick off a list, "You're from Arizona, your dad is gone – which is why you're in this bar. You don't have any idea where to go from here. You're desperately trying to stay sober, and you on some basic level find me attractive." On his last comment she sat up a little straighter, and looked him dead in the eye.

"Do I really?"

"Narrow your eyes all you want Princess, but it's not going to change the fact that you keep staring at my lips. I'd take it personally – but you're drunk. So I'm sure everyone looks particularly attractive."

"I'm not that drunk." His face broke out into a wide, almost lopsided grin. Clarke had to admit his smile was heart-stopping, "and is it really my fault that you're the only interesting person I've met in this town?"

"I heard that!"

The two of them let a laugh escape them at Wick's words and they leaned into each other. Clarke's voice dropped into a whisper, "Does he have super-sonic hearing or something?! Shit."

"Not super, but definitely awe inspiring m'lady." Clarke's eyes scrunched up and she slowly opened one eye as she looked back to Wick's voice. Pulling her bottom lip with her teeth, she met his eyes. "Now, now, Cinderella – no puppy dog looks for the boring bartender. But you and Prince Charming only have an hour until last call – so get his number before I call you a cab."

"You're assuming I want his number," Clarke took her straw into her mouth and took a sip of her whiskey before continuing, "I could just be using him for his body." At that Wick threw back his head in a guffaw before winking and heading to the other end of the bar. With a look back at Bellamy, she crossed her legs.

"You're welcome to you know," his voice stopped her mid-motion. Suddenly the dive felt crowded and loud. Music and chatter swelled inside her head, and she couldn't look away from him. His eyes had darkened, and his face was completely serious as he stared at her – like she was the only one in the room that mattered.

"I thought I was too drunk –"

"We both know that's not true." His voice cut her off before she could let the glib response settle.

The heat coming from his eyes was almost unbearable before she felt herself stutter, "C-cigar-Hmm." She pressed her fingers to her forehead, "Cigarette. I need one. Now."

The arrogant asshole just laughed as he stood, "I see that the Princess is flustered," Bellamy offered her his arm and as she took it, he directed her towards the back door. "At least now I get to see you in a dark, abandoned beer garden, surrounded by hipsters and cigarettes."

* * *

Clarke leaned against the brick building looking at the cigarette in her hand. Her mother would kill her if she knew where she was. But Abby was working a late shift at the hospital and had no idea her seventeen year old daughter was drunk at a bar and smoking a cigarette, let alone talking to an obscenely attractive stranger – who might have been looking at her like she was raw meat and he hadn't eaten in days. As she brought the small stick back to her mouth, Clarke met Bellamy's dark eyes as she took a long drag.

"You're thinking Princess."

"Your point?"

"I want to be that cigarette right now." And just like that the cigarette was on the ground, Bellamy's hands were on either side of her face, roughly pulling her in and stealing her breath. The kiss was short, and he rested his forehead against hers as he pulled away, "Tell me to stop, and I'll walk away."

"Shut up."

Clarke pulled her body closer to his, tangling her hands in Bellamy's hair, and pulling his lips back down to hers. She felt him push her against the dusty brick, his hands running down her neck and finding her waist. She groaned against his lips and suddenly felt his hands slide under her shirt, his rough hands lightly trailing along her stomach, reaching up to the underwire of her bra. Their breaths were uneven now, lips unwilling to let go of each other for even a moment when Clarke pulled away. Turning her head, Bellamy's lips found her jaw and pressed wet kisses down her neck, tongue tracing intoxicating patterns on her veins. She almost didn't recognize her own voice when she spoke. It was husky and filled with unspoken want.

"Inside. We need to go inside."

Bellamy's strangled growl as he pulled away spoke volumes to his self-control, "This isn't over Princess." He ground himself against her before sharply stepping back, grabbing her hand and dragging her back to their empty bar stools. "Grab your things, we're leaving."

* * *

**I seriously can't stop thinking of where this is going to go. I know where I want this to go, but I also don't want to take too many liberties. Ah well.**

**Feedback and reviews are nice.**


	3. They Leave

**I own nothing.**

**Just in time for the new year!**

* * *

Clarke couldn't believe she was letting this man drag her through the parking lot. And she wanted it. Wanted him. He was fixated at this point, pulling her gently through the small cobblestone square. The silence was almost deafening. Clarke felt herself falling into her thoughts, hardly noticing that they'd reached his car, that he'd opened the passenger door, and that he was leaning over her.

"Princess," she felt his hand under her chin, tilting her eyes up to meet his, "Get out of your head. Let go. Let me in." The gravel in his voice shook her to the core. Clarke could see the question as she looked at him – the disbelief that this was happening. And suddenly this strong, self-assured man seemed smaller. It was in that moment that Clarke realized that he'd gotten her to open up all evening, that she had laid all of her problems on his shoulders – and that Bellamy had taken it all in stride without asking anything in return. And in that moment Clarke needed to take some of that burden back.

"Bellamy," her voice sounded deep, foreign, "Why did you do this for me?"

"Because you needed me to. Now let's get you home–" Clarke cut him off before he could guide her into the front seat, pulling him back down into her. Letting her hands grip his neck, she pushed her lips against Bellamy's desperately.

"I need you."

"You need sleep Clarke," his voice was almost inaudible against her lips.

"I'm not drunk anymore," she closed her eyes – unable to see him turn her away. Clarke felt a sigh escape her as his thumb traced her lips. "You keep telling me to let go. But you won't tell me how. Show me. Make me let it go."

She felt his laugh more than she heard it.

"You drive a hard bargain, Princess."

When Clarke and Bellamy made eye contact, it was almost explosive. It was as if any air between them might strangle the other. Clarke felt his hand against her cheek, keeping her close, while his other hand pressed on her back – pushing her against him roughly.

"Tell me how to get you home," his words were kindling on her fire. Clarke heard her laughter echo against the stones, and pulled herself into the passenger seat – her eyes sparkling with continued laughter.

"Get in the car – and drive."

* * *

**This was far shorter than I wanted it to be, but harder to write than I anticipated.**

**Thank you to Looking for a Silver Lining for your awesome Beta skills!**

**Reviews are nice.**


	4. They Wake

**A/N: So here's another one! Not as short as the last one - but I couldn't bring myself to pull this one up from T just yet. Though it could happen sometime in the future. I keep asking myself what exactly I want to come from this, and I still don't know - but I've finally settled on a rough plot outline. Feel free to offer guesses! :)**

**I own nothing, but I wish I did.**

* * *

The sunlight was blinding.

Has the sun always been this bright? Clarke let out a slight moan as she brought her hands to her head. The slight pulsing behind her eyes was unfortunate, but she could handle a little hangover in the scheme of things. The important part was making sure that she could function before her mom woke up. Clarke slowly blinked her eyes open and rolled herself up, as she put her feet on the ground she realized something wasn't right. Clarke's room did not have carpet.

That's when she remembered she was not in her room.

Clarke wasn't even positive how to get to her room. Clarke silently groaned when she turned back and saw the sleeping man behind her. He was just as beautiful in the morning light – his tanned body glowed in the morning light, surrounded by his white sheets. She could stare at him all morning – but Clarke had to figure out how to get to her car, and home, as quickly as possible. Clarke slowly eased her body up and off the bed.

Finding her pants was easy – but her shirt was lost in the chaos that was this room, so Clarke took the next best thing. His white shirt smelled of Bellamy and laundry detergent, and she had no guilt in the trophy as she slowly stepped through the door from his room. Once she had cleared into the living room, Clarke was able to move with a little more speed as she grabbed her shoes and her bag from near the entry and stepped into the hallway. Clarke let out the sigh she had been holding in for the last few minutes as she leaned against the closed door.

Reaching into her purse, Clarke wrestled out her cell phone to check the time.

"Fuck."

It was half past eight already, Abby would have gotten home at least an hour ago. At least Clarke didn't have any missed calls yet, which meant that she'd been too tired to check in on Clarke before she turned in. Heading for the stairs, Clarke pulled on her flats as she pulled up her GPS on her phone. The drive here was a bit of a blur, but she doesn't remember it being much longer than five minutes. The fun part now would be getting to her car.

* * *

Bellamy woke to the sound of the front door clicking shut. Rolling to his back, he took a deep breath. He should have known she would sneak away. Bringing her here was a mistake. Good things never come from a one night stand, but she had seemed so open last night – willing to trust within her own limits.

He wanted more.

This girl was like an addiction, and she couldn't stand to wake up next to him. Thank god his sister had spent the night with friends – Clarke's presence wasn't something he wanted to explain to the sixteen year old. Bellamy reached up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before pulling himself up, and towards the hall. Coffee is the only thing that would get him out of this funk. Coffee is always the answer.

* * *

Getting back to her car was not fun.

Walking to the edge of the apartment complex was interesting – she'd gotten turned around at least three times. Clarke's definition of fun was not walking around in circles.

And if Clarke thought that was bad, hailing a taxi while doing the 'walk of shame' was even less appealing. She knew her hair was a tangle of curls, they were always out of control in the morning, her makeup had more than likely smeared in unattractive ways, and she was wearing a shirt at least three sizes too large. At least the cabbie was kind enough not to mention any of the above on her drive. However, he did joke repeatedly about her needing to go to a bar at nearly nine in the morning.

That was when Clarke decided it was time to ignore the man in the driver's seat.

When the car finally slowed outside of McLangley's, Clarke hardly let the car pull to a stop before shoving a twenty towards the front and climbing out of the vehicle. It wasn't until she was in her car, turning the ignition, before she let herself breathe.

"I should have said something," Clarke groaned to herself as she dropped her head to the steering wheel. Unfortunately, she hadn't even gotten Bellamy's number. She couldn't even send a stupid – 'That was fun' text.

She had just put the car into drive when she heard her phone.

"Perfect timing, Mom," she grabbed the phone and shoved it against her ear as she pulled onto the street.

" _Clarke! Where are you?"_

"Driving mom."

" _You were supposed to be here. What happened while I was at the hospital?! You know I'm uncomfortable with you out there alone right now. We don't know what this place is like after dark, we don't know what could-"_

"Mom – mom. It's alright. I'm fine – I heard about this thing from – " Clarke struggled to remember some, any, of the names of the other kids she'd met at the high school when she'd gone to pick up her schedule. " – Jasper. You know the lanky one from that orientation?"

" _The strange boy with the goggles?"_

"Yes, mom. The one with the goggles. And dear God, don't say things like that. It's rude. But, he invited me and you keep telling me I need to meet more kids my age. I ended up falling asleep. I'm heading home." The lie rolled so easily off of Clarke's lips. It killed her.

" _But you're on your way?"_

"Yes mom," Clarke really didn't mean to for it to come off as exasperated as she knew it did, "if I could focus on driving, I'd probably be there a lot sooner."

" _Get home safely Clarke, okay? I love you."_

"You too mom. Bye," Clarke threw her phone into the passenger seat as she focused on the road ahead. Now she had three struggles ahead of her; one – figure out how to get a hold of that Jasper kid and make friends as fast as possible, two – finish out the last semester of her senior year at a new school with absolutely no friends, and three – forget about Bellamy, the asshole from the bar.

* * *

**And that is the end for this chapter. I wish real life didn't always seem to get in the way, but alas. I have a day off tomorrow - so I'm hoping to sit down with a couple pots of coffee and my computer to free-form. Should be fun!**

**Reviews are nice. So is everyone who's followed/favorited. For cereal yo – I love to hear your thoughts and your encouragement.**


	5. She Fixes, He Dwells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another one! Don't get used to two chapters in so many days! But it is amazing what chips, salsa, and some Diet Coke can inspire.
> 
> I own nothing.

 

She didn't regret anything.

And she couldn't forget him either.

It had only been a week since that night, and Clarke had been running somewhere between auto-pilot and damage control. Abby had been unusually proactive about making sure Clarke would check in with her during her overnights at the hospital. She guessed that coming home when Clarke wasn't probably put her mother into an overbearing tailspin.

Abby's argument always ended with the words, "You're a teenager Clarke, you earn your freedoms. We've lived here less than a month, and I won't lose you too."

It always came back to that. But a part of Clarke wanted to be lost – to let go and lose herself in a moment, in a feeling, or in a person. Which brought her thoughts back to Bellamy – Clarke let herself go with him and it was so easy. The man was strong, intelligent, and seemed to have a sixth sense for exactly what she needed.

Too bad she had absolutely no way to contact him.

She hadn't even had a chance to go back to McLangley's because of her mother. In all honesty was probably a good thing, that night was so out of character for her – but it had felt so good. Clarke blushed at the thought. She remembered feeling so relaxed when she woke up, and she hadn't let herself relax since her dad died. It was how she was keeping herself in one piece.

Clarke shook her head when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Instinctively, she knew it was Jasper. That boy had a strange way of wiggling into her life when she'd least expected it.

Tracking him down had been easy – she'd gone to the school's office and simply asked the secretary about him. Apparently information in a small town was significantly easier to obtain. The woman behind the desk had smiled when Clarke had walked in – this was the second time in a week Clarke had been in the office. At the mention of Jasper's name, Ms. Wolcott had laughed and asked what the boy had done.

Clarke smiled at the memory – she had only had to say that the boy invited her to a party, but hadn't given her any way to contact him or even the address.

" _That's just like that boy, always reaching out but never quite following through," Ms. Wolcott sighed, "Now, I can't do anything like give you an address – but I don't think it's against the rules to mention that he and the Green boy usually go to the Spice Rack every afternoon. But you didn't hear that from me darlin'."_

Clarke had made quick progress in making sure that the lies she was spinning didn't stay lies long. She looked down at her phone.

_Good ol' fashioned hootenanny 2night._

_U in?_

**When. Where. Dr Mom is on my ass bc of Origin.**

**Need details or I'm stuck.**

_Monty's._

_Prbs 9.3?_

**Check. I'll call the Dr.**

Clarke smiled to herself as she looked at her phone. After tracking the pair down to the local coffee shop slash hippie shop (Clarke loved the atmosphere in the locally owned shop - teas and fresh spices lined the walls – available to buy by the ounce, the pound, whatever you needed) she cornered them at a little bistro table.

" _Hello boys."_

_The two boys' eye's flicked up to her in surprise. She had interrupted their_ _tête_ _-à-_ _tête_ _seamlessly, sliding into the third wrought iron chair with her cardboard coffee cup._

" _You're Clarke." She smiled as the lanky boy spoke, "I remember you from the school. I'm assuming Wolcott sent you our way? That angel is the school's worst gossip you know."_

_That was when the other boy spoke, "Monty. We haven't met. What brings you to our happy place."_

_It wasn't a question. Of course the two would feel at home here. The place was beautiful, and eclectic._

" _I need your help," Clarke heard the steel in her voice and internally cringed._

" _And what does the fair lady need from two lowly science geeks?" Jaspers eyebrow arched inelegantly – it looked more like his face was twisting into a laughable grimace._

_Monty quickly finished the other boy's thought, "You may be new here, but you'd rise quickly in the ranks, the hierarchy that is inherently established at any given high school."_

_Clarke heard herself snort, "Probably true. I could start over here."_

_That's when she heard the smile in Jasper's voice, "Or-"_

" _Or, I could try something new." Clarke looked straight into Jasper's eyes, before looking back at Monty. "And, I might have specifically lied to my mother about where I was two nights ago. Yours was the only name I could remember from picking up my schedule."_

_Twin smiles broke out across their faces, and they looked at each other before looking back to Clarke._

" _We're in."_

_Of course they spoke in tandem._

It took maybe two days of texting before Clarke could genuinely say that the two boys had weaseled their way into her heart. They'd known each other for ages – much like she and Wells. They had a streak in them too, they loved trouble and found themselves knee deep in it.

Maybe that was why they took to her as fast as she did them. They knew everything that had happened since she'd moved here, quickly dubbing her night at McLangley's as  **The Origin**. Clarke thought it was silly to name a night that was haunting her. It's not like she could forget a single detail of the night. To their credit, however, talking in code around their parents made it significantly easier to make plans for nights that weren't totally legal.

Clarke knew that their friendship had much of the same thrills as that initial night out.

It was fun, and easy, and just slightly out of character for her.

But she was almost eighteen – why did she always have to play the good girl?

* * *

Ten o'clock came slowly when you were waiting. He'd been sitting at this stupid bar every night for the last week.

"You know as well as I do that she hasn't been here."

The blonde's voice was grating to his ears, "Thanks Wick, I don't think I'd noticed."

Bellamy lifted his beer to his mouth slowly, and his eyes never left the bar. It wasn't until he saw the bartender's elbows shift into view that he realized the other man was staring at him.

"You got it bad don't you? Cinderella run away on you?" Bellamy's eyes flicked to Wick's face in alarm. "Oh my god. She did, didn't she? Man, I-I'm sorry. I had no idea it would be like that. She seemed… honest." Wick leaned against the bar back, before hauling himself up and down the bar. He was gone only seconds before he dropped a shot glass in front of Bellamy, pouring a long shot of yellow liquid into it.

"Tequila? Really Wick, I'm not sure more alcohol is the way to fix this." Bellamy's hand reached for the shot anyway. He knocked it back quickly – the inherent grimace that followed squelched quickly.

"I disagree. Tequila makes things much, much, better. Just don't plan on remembering too much about tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got some new characters in!
> 
> It took me a little to decide how to work in my two favorite boys that satisfied me. But I think I like what I have so far. Don't think the moonshine won't work it's way into this story - I can't resist. :)
> 
> Reviews are nice and so are all of you!


	6. She Drinks. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy mother of God. Three chapters in less than 24 hours. I only wish this kind of inspiration could strike all of the time.
> 
> I own nothing.

 

The three teens lay side by side in the bed of Jasper's old truck staring at the stars.

"I still can't get used to seeing them, you know? They were never this clear in Phoenix." Clarke's voice was raspy, the awe of the stars seeping into her bones.

Jasper looked to his left to look at her before looking back to the sky, "Out here it's almost like you're up there. They're so clear." Monty just hummed in agreement as the three let the moment soak in.

Putting one hand on each of their legs, Clarke hurled herself up.

"Alright boys, let's get this hootenanny started, shall we?" The devious smile on her face almost looked childlike. Almost. With a laugh the two boys hoisted themselves up, and the three teens hopped off the truck bed and ran, laughing to the small clearing where a fire pit had already been set up.

The wooded area was out of town by quite a few miles, the trees tall, thin, and bare. This year's winter had been mild apparently, but Clarke felt it in her bones. There was a light frost in the air – but it hadn't snowed so far. The weather was so different from the Southwest. But tonight was perfect for a bonfire. As they got to the clearing, Monty and Jasper immediately went to setting up the fire, pulling the tarp up from on top of a stack of fire wood, they joked and laughed – going through an obviously fine-tuned routine. Clarke watched the two and leaned against a tree, her breath lingering in the air.

"Hey! Geeks, when are the other's showing up?" As close as she'd gotten to Jasper and Monty in the last week, she really hadn't met many other kids her age and she felt the bubble of excitement in her stomach. When the boys had joked about her not needing them for popularity, they hadn't been kidding – she knew she had an air about her that drew people to her. But the more she got to know them, the more she realized that so did they – that and the fact that the two science geeks in front of her were the go to for illegal substances in this small community. Nothing scary – like hard drugs or anything like that – but Monty took this insane pleasure in concocting new and improved recipes for his little homemade distillery. That's why they were here tonight, to premiere his new 'Apple Pie' moonshine.

If asked on the bible if they'd tested it before the others arrived, she would swear that they'd waited.

It would be a lie.

This stuff was insanely good – you'd think it was just apple juice, it tasted that good – until two or three cups later, when you could hardly stand upright.

The quiet out here was relaxing – but when she heard the footsteps crunch on the leaves behind her, the first thing she felt was fear. It was visceral, and made her heart pound. She wrenched her head quickly and seeing the group of kids approaching, Clarke felt the calm spread through her veins.

Tonight was about making a new life here.

The fire was tall, the crackle of wood popping and hissing as the teens laughed and played. Clarke was sitting on one of the logs that served as a bench around the pit, arms crossed over her knees with a solo cup in her hand. The camaraderie between these kids was intoxicating.

There was Finn – he had a lilting laugh that was contagious, and a smile that made you want melt. He seemed to be the provocative element behind a lot of the stories that the group had been telling her all evening. Planning pranks, and chasing fun for a rush. But she could tell that underneath the thrill-seeking exterior the boy had a heart of gold. She could see it in the protective way he held his girlfriend, and in the way that he jumped up to wrestle people, 'in good fun', when the alcohol infused teenagers got too close to the fire.

There was Raven – the girl who stayed close to Finn. She loved him fiercely. That she knew from their introduction. The no nonsense way that she told Clarke the boy was off limits. Clarke had laughed her off, as cute as the boy was – he couldn't hold a candle to the man from the bar.

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and took a drink from her cup. Damn that man for controlling her every thought. Tonight was about fun and new people.

She turned her attention back to the collection of characters in front of her.

The boy named Nathan – or Miller as everyone called him – didn't seem to fit with the rest of the group – but he could laugh and much like the rest of the group, seemed to have that light inside of him. He was just like the rest of them – a star that pulled the rest to him. Physically, he was strong. She could see why he was on the football team.

John Murphy was the quiet one. He seemed so serious, but Monty said that the guy had a tinder box for a temper; he stayed quiet to avoid confrontation.

Harper and Monroe were girls that had rarely left each other's side since they'd arrived – both members of the volleyball team, they arrived with Miller. If Jasper hadn't warned her that they weren't related – and not to bring it up – Clarke could have sworn they were twins.

And finally the youngest member of their group was a little brunette girl, sitting on the opposite side of the fire from her. Monty said she was a grade younger than all of them, but could raise just as much hell. She was on what was probably her fourth or fifth cup of hooch, and swaying badly. The fire behind her eyes reminded her of what attracted her to Prince Charming at the bar. She knew what she wanted and she took it. No one had called the girl by name – everyone just calling her different synonyms for feisty. No one introduced her to Clarke either. She'd have to ask Monty or Jasper about that later.

Especially when she suddenly leapt up, held her cup in the air and screamed, "Truth or Dare, bitches!"

Everyone seemed to freeze, no matter what they were doing, as smiles spread across their faces. The group let out a communal whoop and all of the solo cups were refilled. Everyone settled in around the fire as Feisty's eyes settled on Clarke.

"Alright, New Girl, you've never played with us – but Jasper and Monty say you're cool. We'll see how cool you are," her grin scared Clarke a little. It was almost vicious.

That was when Miller took over, "The rules are simple. Choose dare, and you have five minutes to complete whatever you need to do. You can back out – but if you do you have to fulfill a 'Withdrawl' of their choosing. The catch is that you have no idea what that will be until after you decide to back out."

"So it's probably better to just take your dare," Raven snorted in laughter.

Miller looked at her with laughter in his eyes, "Or you could choose truth. That seems simple. Just answer the question," that was when Jasper put his arm around Clarke and shook her a little bit before cutting into the conversation.

"But you're allowed to lie! That's the fun part. But if we catch you in the lie – you have to do a dare anyway!"

His laughter was contagious. And the entire group was ready to play.

Clarke heard her voice before she even decided to speak, "So how do you decide who goes first?"

That sadistic grin came back to Feisty's face.

All eyes turned to Clarke, as her own eyes went wide, "Wha-what did I do?"

"Truth or dare, New Girl?"

* * *

Her first dare went off without a hitch. She chugged more than a couple glasses of moonshine, and kept her eyes on Feisty the entire time.

It was a while before the game came back to her, but when it did Feisty asked her the same question as before.

"Truth or dare, New Girl?"

"Well," Clarke realized just how freaking drunk she was at this point. Another dare like before would likely give her alcohol poisoning – and the last thing she needed was to get dropped off at the emergency room, in the middle of the night, while her mother was working an overnight.

"Truth."

The entire group gave a little laugh, Clarke turned to Jasper with wide eyes before whispering, "What? What's wrong?"

"Octavia," Octavia – apparently the girl did have a name, "is notorious for… her recklessness? I guess is the best way to say it. She tends to go for the jugular."

"Alright, New Girl, tell us all about your first week here. I keep hearing Jasper and Monty talking about," her voice got low, and mocking in tone, "the  _Origin_ , and I'm curious. What was so bad, that you had to use Wolcott to track them down?"

Apparently Wolcott was as big a gossip as Jasper initially warned.

"And don't lie to me. I am the queen of sniffing out liars in this game."

Clarke looked to her right, where Finn was nodding his head in agreement with the girl. With a sigh, Clarke met the younger girl's eyes before settling in to her story.

As she spoke, she got the hoots and hollers at the pre-requisite times from the boys, and the giggles from the girls at all the 'sexy' points. The only thing she never said was the boy's name – that part was for Clarke and Clarke alone. That way, Bellamy could stay hers.

"You're lying."

She had just finished the story when the little brunette spoke up.

"Wh-what?" Clarke felt herself sputter – Octavia had taken her off guard. "I haven't lied about anything."

"Omission is essentially a lie New Girl. What's his name?"

"Why do you care?" Clarke was on the defensive now – what did his name matter. The girl had gotten the dirt she had wanted. Clarke wasn't naïve enough to realize this truth was anything but collateral for Octavia. Clarke had figured out as the game progressed that the young girl liked gossip as much as Wolcott – but Octavia kept her information to use for herself.

"A lie is a lie. Besides, I think you'll really love my dare," the grin was back. Clarke thought to herself that not much scared her more at this point than that grin.

Finally, Clarke couldn't stand it anymore.

"Bellamy."

As fast as she said it, the grin was gone.

"What did you say?" the girls face started to blanch, and in her drunken state the entire group seemed to slow turn to look at her. Almost every single one of their mouths agape with shock.

"Clarke, why didn't you ever tell Monty or me his name?" Jasper's whisper was fierce in her ear.

She spoke up, confused by the group's reaction, "Why? What about the name Bellamy is this bad?"

Clarke took her earlier thought back almost immediately. The smile had nothing on Ocatvia's deadpan.

"He's my brother."

Well shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This chapter was not a part of my initial plan, but I kind of love it.
> 
> Bellarke makes me trash. I am trash.
> 
> I like your reviews.


	7. They Freak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... Oops, I did it again... :D
> 
> I own nothing.

His sister was late.

Really fucking late.

She was supposed to check in three hours ago. He knew better than to let her go to these stupid bonfires her friends held. He remembered what that shit was like when he was in school. The tradition continued – as always. And his sister found his way into the thick of it.

Just like he had.

Bellamy ran his hands through his hair, further mussing his curls. It was well past midnight, and his cell phone was burning a hole in his pocket.

Like its mere presence was calling to him.

Why did he have to promise Octavia that he would wait for her call, he was getting past the point of waiting.

That's when he started pacing.

Bellamy hated pacing – it was uncontrolled, and disorganized.

Since his mother had died, Octavia had lost a lot of what made her his O. He'd watched her, his heart breaking, as the child-like wonder left her eyes, and as the cynicism crept into them. Bellamy closed his eyes. The aneurism came out of nowhere. The doctor told him there was nothing that could be done, that as a female smoker with high-blood pressure she'd been at risk – that her headaches had been a symptom that she had never thought to look into.

He was staring at his phone, his sister's contact information pulled up when it rang.

"O –"

" _What the actual fuck Bell. What the hell have you been – who the hell have you been doing?!"_

His sister's voice was hushed, she was definitely yelling at him while trying to keep whoever was around from hearing. If he listened closely, he could hear the fire crackling on the other side of the line – he could hear the laughter and the voices of the other teens present.

"Octavia, what are you talking about."

" _I'm talking about Clarke."_

Hearing his Princess's name on his sister's lips stopped him cold. How the hell did Octavia know her name?

"How do you know about Clarke, Octavia?" Bellamy heard his voice go flat, all emotion fled. He hadn't mentioned anything about the girl who ran away to his sister. He couldn't talk about her.

" _Because jack-ass, I just met her. She's at this fucking fire you dumb ass."_ Bellamy could hear the anger in her voice – but he could also hear the slight slur to her words. Fucking hell, his little sister had been drinking.

Reality stopped in those seconds when her words finally hit him.

Octavia was with Clarke.

Clarke was at the bonfire.

Clarke was a high school student.

Bellamy grabbed his car keys, his coat, and ran for the door, "Octavia, I swear to god, if you leave that fire pit I will strangle you in your sleep. You keep that girl there, do you hear me?"

" _What are you gonna do big brother? Come fix it? You can't fix this. She's here – other kids know what happened. What you did. How are you going to fix –"_

He cut her off before she could finish – "I'm on my way. Just keep her there," his voice softened. "Please, O."

He heard her take a deep breath before she hung up.

Shit.

* * *

Clarke wanted to freak out.

She wanted to hyperventilate.

But she didn't, she couldn't. Clarke refused to let this girl see weakness in her right now – not when the proverbial shit had hit the fan.

Octavia's demeanor had completely changed after she had dropped the bomb that had altered the fun of the evening. Everyone had gone silent. They all knew of her brother apparently – his protective streak was legendary. Clarke couldn't stop her heart from beating out of her chest. Instinctually, she knew that she should drink water – to calm herself.

But the only thing available was Apple Pie. So she drank that instead. She'd rather be drunk off her ass than face the questions the kids hurled at her. Finally, Finn stepped between them all – pushed the others away as Monty and Jasper circled around her protectively.

Monty pulled the cup away from Clarke as he spoke, "Clarke – just breathe for me. This is going to be okay. These kids are our friends. We protect each other. That's what we do. You're one of us now. This doesn't leave this fire, okay?"

Clarke felt numb as she nodded.

Jasper spoke next, "Blake is a good man Clarke – but Octavia is just as protective of him as he is with her. When their mom died, it hit them both hard. Octavia feels she took the brunt of it. She lost her mom and her best friend, and was suddenly saddled with a brother who thought he had to be her dad. But growing up, she worshipped him. He's six years older than her and loves her fiercely. They're similar that way."

Clarke saw the way the boy looked at Octavia – the awe in his eyes when he looked at the girl. How hadn't she seen it before? Jasper was enamored with her. That was when Clarke put her big girl face on – the same one she used when her father died. The one she used when her mother told her they were uprooting to a small Virginian town.

Clarke felt her breathing even out as she spoke, "I'll fix this boys, I don't know how – but I'll make this right. I'm not reckless; I'm the good girl – the good student. And I'll fix it." She saw the laughter return to their eyes as their grip on her lessened.

"Alright! Everyone – shit happens. It's a small town right? Everyone get's around," the tension between the teens lightened as Jasper spoke. Everyone visibly calmed, and one of the girls giggled. She freaking giggled, and it was contagious.

It started with Harper, spread to Monroe before Clarke and Finn both burst into laughter. By the time that Octavia walked back into the clearing the entire group had dissolved into giggles.

"Is this shit really that funny, you guys?" The anger in her voice was almost non-existent as the teenage girl felt the laughter creeping into her bones. By the time she spoke again, Octavia too was fighting laughter, "This isn't funny!"

She wasn't fighting it – she was laughing. It was a pure, guttural laugh and as she looked to Clarke she gave her a true smile, one full of teeth and friendship.

"We're in this shit together now aren't we?"

Truer words could not have been spoken, and Clarke gave the girl a restrained smile. She went over to the metal keg, grabbed two cups and filled them silently. Offering one to the small girl, Octavia took it before setting it gently on the top of the keg. Clarke never saw what happened next coming, but when the small girl threw her arms around Clarke it stunned her. She looked over to Jasper and Monty, who were looking at her with wide eyes before Monty gave her a stupid thumbs up, Clarke rolled her eyes before letting her hands go around the small girl – hugging her as fiercely as she was being hugged.

"Just don't hurt him, okay? I can't lose him too." Her words were small as they were whispered into her ear.

Clarke's smile was tight as she nodded, "Not if I can help it."

And Clarke meant it. A stupid one night stand had just gotten one hell of a lot more complicated.

The two broke apart and the group went back to their stupid drunken games, their fun, and their laughter, but the crisp air only had a short reprieve before it all changed.

She heard him before she saw him – his voice cutting through her like a knife.

"Am I interrupting something here?"

Clarke turned quickly, spilling her cup all over the log beside her as she stood.

"Bell!" Octavia's squeal seemed uncommonly loud in the air as she ran to her brother. His arm opened and pulled her into an instinctive one-armed hug. His eyes never left Clarke's, the tension between them unspoken.

The only thought running through her head was like a broken record.

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the last chapter required me to branch from my initial plan. But I like this plan better. It'll make the Clarke and Bellamy more like equals instead of forcing the two into a relationship that automatically gives Bellamy significantly more power. I mean, technically Bellamy will still have a lot of power... but - you'll see!
> 
> Reviews are nice.


	8. They Confront

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wrote this the other night, but I forced myself to save it. Because otherwise I'm going to exhaust myself trying to keep up with this update schedule ;P
> 
> I own nothing.

She couldn't take her eyes off of him.

He was holding his sister protectively – and she was looking at him with adoration. Or maybe she was holding on to stay upright. At this point in the evening it really could have been either. Maybe both.

The group had fallen silent again, waiting with pregnant pause to see what exactly would happen next. It was Jasper who walked up to the pair, pulling Octavia into his arms, who broke the silence.

"I think you two should probably talk. We'll camp here, you go… talk."

The implication in his words was thick, and it caused the teens to explode in another burst of laughter. Clarke stood motionless as Bellamy crossed to her.

"What do you say Princess, want to take a walk?" The anger in his voice was apparent, his words a whisper. She could only nod and follow as he took her hand and led her into the woods, the sound of the teen's frivolity fading into a muted revelry.

"Stop."

Her voice cut through the silence, and he turned around sharply.

"Do you understand what you've done?! The shit you pulled could get me fired. Fuck, Clarke – if anyone had found out that night Wick would have lost his job. Do you know that job is how he's paying for school? He's going to be an engineer," Bellamy took a deep breath to calm himself.

He was pacing again.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? That it was wrong? We already know that I'm not and that it was."

Her voice only fueled his anger.

"I'm a cop Clarke. Do you know what that means for me?" His world almost stopped when he saw her breath catch in her throat. Obviously that hadn't come up in the time it took for him to get here after his conversation with Octavia. She hadn't known, "You're what, sixteen? Seventeen?"

"I'll be eighteen in three months," Her interjection only aroused his anger.

"That doesn't fucking matter! I'm twenty-three. That means this," He gestured between the two of them, "whatever this is, is statutory rape Clarke. We are illegal. I would lose my job for us. For this."

Her breaths were short now, coming quickly, her eyes searching his for some kind of validation.

"I am so sorry," when she finally spoke, her voice was small. It was so unlike the girl he'd met at the bar. She was the girl with so much light in her eyes, the girl with the addicting smile who had pulled him into her gravity.

He had seen her so often in his imagination in the last week, and this new small Clarke he couldn't stand. He needed his vibrant princess.

* * *

 

Clarke felt like absolute shit.

Her selfish night of release could cost this man his career.

"I don't think I could apologize enough, Bellamy," her eyes turned to the ground as she spoke, "You helped me let go, and I took advantage of that. I took advantage of you."

She couldn't look at him – couldn't see the rage in his eyes when it was directed at her. But she could feel him. She could feel his energy surround her, envelop her, and she could feel him when he stepped into her. His hands gently buried into her hair, on either cheek, as he tilted her head up so that she was looking into his eyes.

"Princess, I –" his voice cracked as he spoke, "Don't ever think I didn't want that night. Fuck..."

He let go of her and stepped away as he cursed. Pacing, he looked back to her, "Can't you see how much you affect me? How much I want you?"

Her eyes followed his every step, "I don't understand Bellamy… I –"

Bellamy's hands burrowed in his hair, running through it and leaving it completely tousled. "We happened because you're addicting damn it! I couldn't get enough of you, can't get enough of you," His voice was rising with every word, "The problem here is that you're seventeen years old, what happened between us could land me in jail. I would lose my job."

As he paced back and forth, within an arm's length, her shame started to disappear. Bellamy obviously didn't regret what happened, just regretted her age. Irritation began to bubble inside of her, when she finally snapped.

"Fuck off Bellamy – " she pushed against his shoulders as she spoke, "Fuck you. Stop attacking me on this. Yeah, I fucked up. I lied to you. But guess the fuck what, it happened and we can't change that. There's no going back, there's just making sure that we don't fuck up again in the future. Because obviously this wasn't worth it. We weren't worth it."

Three or four shoves was all it took for him to grab onto her.

"Do you honestly think that I don't want you Clarke? Shit, Princess you are probably the most irresistible girl I've met in a long time. I just can't, I can't fuck shit up right now. It's not just me anymore – I have to think about Octavia." His hands had a mind of their own as he spoke; one on her waist running up and down her side, and the other sliding up her arm until he held the side of her neck. Bellamy groaned as he touched his forehead to hers.

"So what does this mean? For whatever we are, for whatever this is?" Her voice was a whisper between them.

Bellamy pulled away slightly, unable to look away from her lips, "It means that I need to stop. Stop me, Princess."

Clarke's eyes searched his for validation before speaking, "I can't."

Their lips crashed together, his teeth scraping her bottom lip as she moaned into his mouth. Her hand wound into his hair, never letting him pull farther than inches away.

They were so absorbed with each other that neither noticed the crowd of people huddled behind the trees, watching every word. Neither heard the girl giggle, or Octavia shush the group before giggling herself.

"Okay guys," Octavia's whisper was ardent, "let's get back to the fire. I'll take this out on him tomorrow. But we need to be back at that fire before they realize we left. If I know my brother, he's gonna freak if he knows we saw that."

Her smile was contagious, and the group followed suit.

Monty was the next one to speak, "And if we," he pointed to Jasper, "have learned anything about Clarke it's that she's just as impulsive."

"But… we're still totally going to razz them for this right?" Jasper's whisper was barely contained, the glee in his eyes inevitable.

They were back in the clearing now, and the group stood silently for a second before letting out a giant scream of laughter. It was Murphy who spoke first, "As long as it stays between us… let's give 'em hell."

Family protects family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I think I like this chapter, I wrote it in almost an hour.
> 
> Don't get used to this posting schedule... I think if I were to write like this all of the time I might not function. ;)  
> But for cereal - I'm about to head into work for four straight and am probably not going to have a lot of time to write - however! Look forward to the weekend. I promise another chapter by Saturday.
> 
> Reviews are nice, sometimes they convince you to write/post an additional three chapters.


	9. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing.

When Clarke woke up amongst the snow white sheets, she had a moment of déjà vu. And yet, unlike the last time – she didn't have a moment of hesitation. She preened.

Abby knew she was with Jasper and Monty at a party, and she was trusted to have spent the night there if she was too tired to come home. But, after the fire Clarke knew there was nowhere else she needed to be.

She felt her body tense as she lifted her arms, slowly, above her head and let her limbs stretch. As Clarke turned her head to the side she saw the sleeping figure of the tanned, freckled boy – man – next to her.

Clarke smiled at the memory.

This was wrong, this was taboo, but she reveled in it.

She wanted more.

Bellamy had fought so hard against her; they fought for dominance as they kissed so far away from the fire – teeth clashing against each other. His groan into her mouth had told her when she'd won the battle. Feeling his hands grip her waist tightly had only been the confirmation she so desperately needed.

She could still remember his words against her lips when he'd vocalized his need.

" _What are you doing to me?_ "

The memory was intoxicating.

Clarke wasn't in control of her limbs when she saw her hands run lightly along his exposed arm, tracing ghosts of the night before up his side and across his exposed collar bone. She was so absorbed that she never felt him shift underneath her.

"Princess, you're thinking again."

Bellamy's words threw her back to their first night together, when they'd met under pretenses at the bar. When he'd awoken a thirst in her that she didn't quite understand, and that she hadn't yet been able to bury.

"Maybe," her smile was visceral, and the emotion seeped into every word. Clarke could hardly contain the shiver that ran through her when she felt his hand creep up her side to settle on her lower back.

"Care to let me in on the secret?"

Clarke's giggle easily offset Bellamy's rough grumble – sleep still coated his voice – as she fell back into his arms. The brief silence between the two was completely comfortable, and Bellamy's hand was tracing patterns into her spine.

"Octavia hasn't come home yet," Clarkes words were tentative, unsure of how the man underneath her might react.

"She's still with Harper and Monroe. Anywhere else and there'd be hell to pay, she knows that," he paused, his body starting to tense. Clarke could feel the moment Bellamy's mind picked up the unspoken question to her words. He groaned, pulling his free hand to his face and rubbed the stiffness out of his jaw, "Princess, you know I can't – I want, but I just can't –" His thoughts trailed into silence.

Suddenly, the air between them was too much and Clarke lurched out of his embrace. Crossing the room quickly, she paused at the door when she heard Bellamy call her name, turning slightly she looked at him simply before disappearing from sight.

* * *

Bellamy was sitting on his elbows as she walked out of the room.

She looked amazing in his clothes, that was for damn sure. The oversized Rolling Stones shirt did wonders for her curves, her pale legs bare in the morning light, but he'd managed to fuck that up quickly. Seconds ago she was in his arms, and now she was off god knows where in his apartment.

At least she hadn't left. Yet.

Her shoes and bag were still next to his bedroom door, so he assumed she was searching for the bathroom.

Last night was terrifying to think about to be honest. By the time the two had gotten into his apartment, Bellamy had felt drunk from, not only by her lips, but from her conversation as well.

After they'd left the fire – to the whispers and hollers from the teens at the campfire – they'd walked hand in hand to his car. She'd given him a chaste kiss, nothing more than lips pressed to lips, and a smile before he'd opened the door for her. Then he'd driven them to a local diner for some quick grub, Bellamy wanted Clarke as sober as possible if she was going to be in his presence any longer.

When that girl had alcohol in her system she couldn't take her hands off of him, and if his conscience could handle it – he'd let it happen.

But as much as he wanted her, truly _wanted_ her, he wanted her to be in control of herself more.

So they'd sat across from one another, joked, laughed, and talked for over an hour. She'd told him a little more about her best friend (Wells had a new girlfriend, Glass, Clarke hated her), he'd opened up about what it was like to move a sixteen year old into his apartment (Bellamy never thought of himself as organized until he'd lived with his sister.)

He'd also discovered that her smile was addicting, he could stare at her for hours.

When they'd finally gotten to his apartment, she'd led him to his bed and simply asked for something to sleep in. Naturally, he jumped at the chance to put Clarke in his favorite shirt. And the sight was enough to fuel his fantasies for the next three months.

The understanding that nothing would happen was unspoken.

Bellamy had hoped in vain that understanding would reach into the morning.

Moments had passed since Clarke had left the room, and Bellamy felt himself plop back into his pillow as he sighed, "Fuck."

* * *

Clarke stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the counter, as she assessed herself.

Uncontrollable bedhead? Check.

Cheeks slightly flushed from irritation? Check.

Deep breathing due to unsatisfied lust? Triple check.

Clarke gave her head a slight shake, and turned the sink's handle, the water coming in a crystal clear rivulet before swirling around the drain. She cupped her hands in the stream before rubbing the cold water over her face – wiping the sleep from her eyes.

She knew he still wanted her. And she also knew that he wouldn't act on it.

She gave a huff before looking back at her reflection, now she just looked like a water-logged, irritated, sex-deprived girl. A lot of help that wasn't.

Clarke had just turned off the faucet and opened the bathroom door when she heard the front door open, and a woman's voice filter through the apartment, "Bell? You're not answering your phone, and I've been trying to call you for over an hour! I let myself in with the spare."

She froze like a doe as the willowy brunette came into view, and the other woman gave a yelp of surprise as she saw the half clothed blonde with wide eyes. Clarke's eyes searched the brunettes face with a combination of hurt and anger, a cloud blurring her sight and a deafening roar filling her ears. She definitely hadn't noticed the woman start speaking again –

"… and who are you?"

Clarke's sentiments exactly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there wasn't enough drama already.
> 
> I like it when you tell me what you think - but mostly because I am needy trash


	10. She Walks Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again! This one was rough, but I think it turned out alright :)
> 
> A lot of you had something to say about our new brunette arriving on the scene - and I think you'll definitely like how that turns out. Only adds to the drama between our favorite OTP!
> 
> I own nothing.

When Bellamy heard the muffled voices coming in from the other room, he assumed that Octavia had found her way home. It wasn't until he forced himself out of bed and truly listened that he realized something was very wrong.

"…and who are you?"

This was not good. That was not a voice he wanted to hear in his apartment, especially not when Clarke was here.

Suddenly his legs and body were moving at opposite ends. He scrambled to his doorway before freezing in place – both of the women in his living room had turned and were staring in his direction, one with anger searing through him and the other with nothing but pure amusement.

"Clarke – I swear it's not what you think," Bellamy heard the pleading in his voice and flinched internally.

"Oh really, Bell? I'd love to hear you explain this situation," the laughter in her eyes leaked into her voice, and Bellamy fixed the woman with a glare as she sank into his couch. He took a step closer to Clarke, and she looked up at him with heated eyes.

"Yes, Bellamy, please explain."

The ice in her tone is what really killed him; he'd already been trying to figure out a way to apologize for his idiocy not even five minutes ago and then Roma had decided to show up. Perfect fucking timing on that one – the girl always did have shit timing.

He felt himself turn to the brunette on the couch, "What the hell are you even doing here Roma?" If he couldn't exactly explain to Clarke what was happening, he could at least get the other woman to tell him why he showed up at his apartment on his day off – for seemingly no reason.

"If you had bothered to keep your phone near you, you would see at least two missed calls from Octavia and four or five from me. She asked me to come by – told me where the two of you had moved the spare to after… well, after. It looks very much like she forgot to mention something."

To Roma's credit – she did manage to keep her laughter contained until she had finished speaking, and as soon as she saw the glint in Bellamy's eyes turn from distress to calculation, she stopped laughing entirely.

That's when he saw her eyes drift over his shoulder and lock with Clarke's, "You know what, I think… I think that I've been put into the middle of something that I really don't want to be a part of," and with that she stood and walked to the door. With her hand on the door knob, she turned over her shoulder and looked to Clarke, "For all that it matters – I'm sorry girl. This is getting messier by the second."

* * *

 

Messy couldn't even begin to describe it.

Clarke hadn't moved since Bellamy had come out of his room, she didn't know if it was shock or anger that had kept her still all this time – in all honesty it was probably a combination of the two. She also couldn't decide what the worst part of this was; the fact that Octavia had so obviously set her up, or that she still had no idea what the relationship between Bellamy and this Roma was.

"Clarke," Bellamy's voice was strained – his arms were at his side and his eyes were desperate.

But she couldn't look at him.

She kept her eyes trained on her hands, which were currently playing with the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. And very quickly she realized just how close to naked she was – how bare she had been. Clarke flushed with embarrassment.

"Clarke, look at me, please," his words only made her squeeze her eyes tightly together, only made her want to lash out at him. She felt him step into her, felt his hands cradle her face, Clarke breathed in sharply when his thumb brushed under her eyes – just above her cheekbone.

She finally looked at him.

"Who was she?"

Her voice sounded hollow – completely unlike her.

Clarke wanted to fight, to yell and hit, but she couldn't. She felt numb as she looked into Bellamy's eyes, they were searching hers before he sighed and stepped away from her.

She watched him pace across the living room, Bellamy hated when he paced – he hated feeling the loss of control he felt it symbolized.

Yet, he always seemed to be pacing around her.

Clarke felt herself smirking beside herself, and just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"Roma is – Roma was… Fuck, Clarke," Bellamy's hand ran through his ruffled hair before falling back onto the couch, "Roma grew up with us, she'd always been like a sister to us – until Mom died. Octavia started lashing out, sneaking out and doing god knows what. She was only twelve- thirteen and I didn't know what to do, or how to handle her, I started spending more and more time with Roma –"

That was when Clarke cut in, "And things escalated. I get it. So you were together. Don't paint a picture; I don't want to see it."

She moved to the doorway to his room, she had to get out of his clothes and away from the sense of him that was permeating everything she touched.

"Clarke, don't walk away from this, don't walk away from me!" She flinched at the sound of his voice – but she couldn't turn back to him. She closed her eyes as she slammed the door behind her. She had to get out of here. She looked around the room, finding each item of hers before flinging it onto her body hastily. "Yes, Roma and I were together, but it's done. It has been for a while. I don't know why O sent her here, I don't. But don't shut me out. We can't be together physically – not again – but you've crawled under my skin Clarke. And I'm so confused about what we are, and what we have –"

Clarke heard his voice crack through the door. She imagined him leaning against the door – head hanging. No – he'd slunk down, now he was sitting with his back against the door, leaning his head back while he spoke.

She shook her head out of fantasy before slipping on her shoes and grabbing her bag.

Opening the door she came face to face with Bellamy, "No Bellamy, you were right last night. This is reckless, and it's gone too far. We hardly know each other – we don't know that whatever this is, is worth it."

Clarke heard the words tumble out of her mouth and knew they were lies the second she heard them, but they did the trick. She saw the hurt crumble into Bellamy's eyes. She saw him step back and silently let her pass.

And then she left.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep trying to reconcile the fact that both of these characters are so volatile, and without being forced together by circumstances I can't see either one of them just giving in to the other. Their relationship would be a fight from the first.
> 
> Sorry about another cliff-ish-hanger.


	11. They Realize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there.
> 
> So.
> 
> I went M.I.A.
> 
> Sorry about that. Life got in the way, and this chapter gave me so much trouble. I've probably written, and rewritten it four or five times.
> 
> I hope that this is worth it.

Bellamy had no idea how long he stood there, back to the door, staring at the void where she had been.

He wasn't even sure what he was feeling – he knew there was a hollow in his bones, an uneasiness that settled in his stomach – and he couldn't shake himself out of it.

Finally, he let himself took a deep breath before running his hands through his hair, and he was forced to face an unwelcome truth.

Octavia was behind this.

The horribly tragic part was that Bellamy didn't know if he was completely and totally pissed that his little sister would pull a stunt like this, or relieved that maybe he didn't have to be the bad guy in all of this.

"Damnit O," the whisper escaped his lips before he could stop himself, and he forced himself to walk to the kitchen to get away from his thoughts. But they followed him, and suddenly he was standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open, simply staring at the contents inside.

He wanted to yell, he wanted to hit something.

His days went a lot like that. He'd wake up, mope to the fridge – stare until he finally decided on coffee, go to work, come home and then sleep.

There were slight variations, sure. But in his day to day, not much changed.

It'd had been more than a week since she'd walked out of his apartment and Bellamy couldn't get Clarke out of his head. He was obsessing about her, he knew that, but the girl was a puzzle.

He'd typed out so many texts to her, begging her to listen – asking her to talk to him. But he hadn't sent any of them; his thumb would hover over the send button for what seemed like forever before he would simply delete the whole thing.

But she left. That was something he couldn't reconcile.

She looked at him, told him he wasn't worth it, and left.

Bellamy couldn't bring himself to comprehend that that girl was the same one he had teased at a bar, a girl whom he'd trusted with the loss of his mother, and the girl who had shared the loss of her father.

And then it hit him, and his laughter surprised him. He and Clarke were more alike than he thought – she was running away from him. He would have done the same damn thing; Roma was just the catalyst that set everything in motion.

The only piece that didn't fit was his sister.

He'd been thinking about that day over, and over again – and he specifically remembered Clarke's eyes when Roma mentioned Octavia. He remembered the hurt and the anger in her eyes.

Bellamy groaned before dropping to his sofa.

He needed to talk to his sister – which would be a slow and painful process.

He was definitely not looking forward to whatever fight was about to happen, and he knew that there would be yelling involved. There was a reason Octavia had rarely been home – she had found every excuse on the planet to avoid their apartment, and he was sure that Harper and Monroe's parents were equally ready for the girl to come home.

When he finally decided what he needed to do, Bellamy felt the shift in his bones.

"Fuck."

He really didn't want to call Octavia, but he had to find a way to fix this. His sanity was on the line.

* * *

For a week and a half Clarke had hated walking away, she'd regretted telling herself that she wanted to forget about him.

Bellamy was right when he told her that they weren't good for each other. Even though he was only five years older than her, it was a crucial age difference. Clarke wouldn't be eighteen for another three months. And that was enough to ruin it all.

It was enough to ruin her afternoon too.

She was supposed to be sitting at the Spice Rack working on homework. School had officially started again two days earlier and Clarke had thrown herself into multiple college level courses, and doing her best to submerge herself in the work.

Clarke thought back to Arizona – how she used to thrive when she and Wells would work together in silence.

She had hoped she could get that sort of silence here – sitting in a quiet corner of the coffee shop she had first met Jasper and Monty. But the silence was just taking over her thoughts.

Clarke was having an annoyingly difficult time working on her AP Biology homework – and genetics was usually one of her strong suits – when she sensed someone sit in the chair across the table.

"I thought that was you."

When Clarke finally looked up, she saw Roma sitting across from her, and there was no stopping the white hot anger that coursed through her.

"What do you want from me? Didn't you see enough the last time?" she saw Roma start to speak, but Clarke just shook her head before continuing, "No, you don't get to talk right now. You had your chance last week. You had to have known why Octavia would have told you to come by that early in the morning. She wanted you to walk in on whoever he had brought home – to make things awkward and to make sure whoever she was didn't stay."

Clarke's eyes flashed as she felt the tension in her blood start to diminish, and suddenly she realized, "She's had you do this before. Hasn't she? Oh, my god, that's it. That's sick." Her breath was coming in gasps at this point.

Roma had stayed quiet throughout Clarke's rant and revelation. There weren't any words that would make the situation better. So she said the only thing that came to mind.

"I'm sorry."

The only thing that went through Clarke's mind was that she wished that 'Sorry' was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is that.
> 
> I like your feedback.
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this long. Coming home to your reviews after being away was wonderful.


	12. She Comes Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about Clarke - I needed to focus a little more back on her for this one. After all, this story is supposed to be about Clarke and how she learns to cope with a loss and manages to find herself. So this was important for me. It let me get back where I needed to be, but I promise that we'll see Bellamy and Octavia's interaction in the next couple of chapters.
> 
> I own nothing.

The rest of the week Clarke walked around in a bubble – she fluctuated between a total numbness and a searing anger that pounded in her veins. The worst part of all of it was her inability to confide in anyone. Her mother would never understand the situation. In fact, Clarke could hear her mother's words of disappointment without much effort.

' _I can't imagine what you were thinking!_

_You did_ what _with a complete stranger?!_

_What have I done that would force you to drink at a bar in a strange town surrounded by people you have never met?_

_I thought I could trust you Clarke…'_

Needless to say that Abby's confidence wasn't something Clarke would be able to rely on.

Jasper and Monty at least knew the situation, but as close as the three had grown in the last month since Clarke had first met them, she wasn't sure if their loyalties would lie with her – or if they would take sides with the girl who had put the large wrinkle in her life.

Not that there were necessarily sides to be taken.

Clarke had no clue what would drive Octavia to do something like this. Jasper had told her that the two Blake siblings had only had each other to rely on since their mothers' death – but what excuse was that for deliberately sabotaging whatever relationship might have grown between Clarke and Bellamy?

Because right now? There was no relationship.

There was a mistake of a one-night stand, and an amazing night of just talking, talking and learning about each other – of trusting in each other.

Clarke groaned as she laid her head in her hands.

She had definitely destroyed a lot of that trust the second she had walked out of Bellamy's apartment.

But she had been so angry, so  _embarrassed_. She'd never bothered to learn if Bellamy had some other attachment that would separate them. Seeing Roma so comfortable in their apartment had killed Clarke, the amount of time she had spent there was obvious to Clarke. There was no other way a person could possibly instinctively move in someone else's space.

In fact, Clarke was so wrapped up in her own lingering thoughts that she never heard the person walk up behind her – and she felt herself jump sharply when they laid their hands on her shoulder before she turned to look at them with a guarded fear.

"Whoa! Clarke! Simmer down. It's just your friendly, neighborhood trouble maker," Jasper's sideways smile was strangely comforting, "Is it just me or have you been avoiding us this week?"

The laughter that came from behind the boy was both light and heavy at the same time – and Clarke knew that Monty was there as well.

"Hi, guys," Clarke's sigh of relief rattled in her chest before she looked away, "and I haven't been avoiding… school has just been overwhelming…"

"Cut the crap," Monty's baritone jokingly layered over her own before letting Jasper take over.

"AP classes are rough yeah – but I'm in your Bio. I don't even think you've noticed that I sit three tables behind you," Clarke clenched her eyes as she grimaced before he continued, "Something else is bothering you and we think we know what's going on."

Monty's nodding was way too exuberant for Clarke's liking – and she narrowed her eyes at the pair, "What do you mean you  _think_  you know what's happening? I swear to god if you knew she was going to pull a stunt like this and you didn't warn me – I will end you both. And it will not be quick – it will be a slow and painful process…"

Monty simply laughed as Jasper threw his hands up in a mock surrender –

"Hear us out Clarke – let's go to the woods tonight, we'll get a little wasted and we can talk. It's Friday for god's sake, and the first weekend of the semester. Let's let loose? Okay?"

Clarke let herself glare at the two before she couldn't stop a smile from taking over her face, "Fine. But I will not be happy about this."

* * *

"…. I'm processing. Give me a second."

Clarke groaned and dropped her head back against the tree, "Jasper, for god's sake. You've been  _processing_  for thirty minutes. You've made me retell you everything four times, and I still don't know what to think."

"You're probably thinking – 'I fucked up', or maybe 'Walking out was idiotic', or –"

Jasper's face lit up as he cut Monty off, "Ooh! I want to play! Maybe you're thinking… 'I'm Clarke, and I like a boy who is so stupidly in like with me that he's risking jail-time and his job to kiss me and snuggle me, and I got scared and embarrassed and ran away!'"

Jasper's smile had widened across his face as he spoke, and by the time he'd finished both Clarke and Monty were staring at him open mouthed.

"…What? Was that not what we were doing?"

Monty slowly shook his head, his expression shifting from shock to irritation – Clarke just made a face and let out a low cry before falling to lay flat on the floor.

"No, Jasper – you nailed it on the fucking head. I'm an idiot. And I've ruined it. Haven't I?" Clarke turned her head to face Monty as he lay out next to her, "I mean – he told me that she didn't matter like that anymore, and I was so angry that I couldn't listen. He asked me to stay and I just walked out."

Jasper threw himself down next to her, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at her face, "Wait. Bellamy Blake asked you to stay. After taking you out to midnight-breakfast and morning-after-awkward – Bellamy Blake asked you to stay. That, my girl, is game-changing bad news. That boy is not good at second chances."

The air was still crisp around the crackling fire – Clarke was propped up against a tree stump next to Monty as Jasper sprawled out in front of them. The moonshine was hiding in plain sight inside one of those coolers you see at football games. The orange of the plastic glowed in the darkness as Monty leaned over to refill their three empty cups.

Coming clean to them had pulled a weight off of Clarke's chest, and the relief she felt that the two boys weren't going to laugh at her was indescribable. However, Clarke still hadn't felt comfortable telling them about her encounter with Roma at the Spice Rack – she didn't even know how to start with that information. The girls simple apology felt almost too personal – and at the same time too disheartening.

The woman's words should have clued Clarke in to how big a mistake Roma had perceived she had made – but really it just made Clarke feel how young she truly was. Surely a true adult would have stayed, would have listened to reason. And Clarke had always thought about herself as a reasonable person. That was, until her father's death.

Thinking back, that had really been the catalyst. That singular incident had changed everything.

The tear escaped her eye before she could stop it, and Monty reached over to brush her cheek, cradling her face for a brief moment to keep Jasper from seeing the slight moment of weakness.

"This is about more than just Bellamy and Roma isn't it?" Monty's implication was clear, he was going to pretend that he hadn't seen her cry – even just a tear – but she was going to have to trust them. Completely.

That was harder than she thought it would be.

But Clarke felt herself needing to tell them about her father – about Wells – and about the Octavia drama she had conveniently left out.

And it surprised Clarke just how much the two boys drew to her. From an outside perspective, Clarke was like the sun – she had a gravity field surrounding her that pulled people in to her. And she never saw them coming, but she would always welcome them with open arms and take them as her responsibility. Because that was what she did – she took care of others, no matter what, and Clarke would always put them before herself.

So she came clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is. I wrote this tonight as I sat in airports, trying to avoid this Winter Storm Octavia (how apropos) and Winter Storm Neptune thing that's happening here in the Eastern/Midwest area. So many delayed and cancelled flights.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued support.
> 
> You rock my socks off.


	13. They Move On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five and a half months later.....
> 
> Sorry about the whole radio silence thing.
> 
> Lack of inspiration, and some personal things came in between me and writing.
> 
> Also, I can apparently only write in airports or on planes.
> 
> But, while I was visiting family, I drafted the next few chapters, so hopefully I'll be more consistent in posting.

 

Bellamy didn't think this could be more awkward.

He was sitting in an armchair, drinking an overpriced cup of fancy coffee waiting for his little sister to actually show up. He wasn't sure what was worse – the pseudo-hipster atmosphere or the fact that his sixteen year old sister had hardly been home in the last week.

He was supposed to be the responsible one, and he had fought so hard for custody of his little sister that her avoidance felt almost like a betrayal – wasn't it supposed to be the two of them against the world? Bellamy felt the scoff escape them before he remembered where he was. Steeling his gaze, he glanced quickly around the store. He needed to see if anyone had seen him.

No one was looking at him funnily – which seemed like a plus to him.

And it was during this quick look that he completely missed his little sister walking through the door.

"Alright asshole, I'm here." His sister's exasperated sigh almost tipped his boiling point.

But Bellamy caught himself before he said something he'd regret, "When are you coming home?"

The brunette across from him scoffed before dropping into the nearest chair, her small limbs splaying over the armrests. Her green eyes narrowed before she sat upright, elbows resting on her knees, "When are you going to forgive me for calling Roma?"

Bellamy caught himself glancing around the eclectic coffee house before turning his gaze back to his sister, "There's nothing to forgive O, god, I just can't for the life of me understand why you called my ex-girlfriend when you knew, or at least assumed, that Clarke was here? What could possibly have been gained from that?"

Octavia just shrugged, "I figured our oldest friend would have told you that you were acting like a fucking idiot and thinking with your dick."

He hardly caught his eye roll before he spoke, "Why don't I believe that? O, I know you. You thrive on drama and on information. I don't know where you get it – but you love gossip. And I swear – "

"Who the hell do you think I learned it from?" Octavia's interjection caught him off guard, and Bellamy listened with his mouth half open, "After mom, hell even before she died – you were the one who raised me. I paid attention. Knowledge is money, information is safety. I just needed you to see how stupid you were being! Besides, isn't that the one night stand rule? Call the ex. Easy out?"

Bellamy's jaw snapped shut before Octavia continued in hushed tones.

"Bell – Clarke is seventeen. Even if she turns eighteen soon, it's essentially suicide for you to pursue anything with her! Do I like her? Eh. Unimportant. Do I think she likes you? Most definitely. But none of that matters if you get fired, or if her mother comes after you for statutory. Just keep it in your pants. Go back to Roma – or after some girl who isn't bad news."

And at that Octavia stood and rushed out of the building.

Bellamy sat shocked for a few moments before realizing she'd never said when she was coming home, or who she was staying with. He took a long drink of his coffee before sliding into his armchair and dropping his head back.

She wasn't wrong.

* * *

Roma didn't know why she was here.

Bellamy hadn't had much to say to her in the last year and a half since they'd broken up – though she'd stayed close to Octavia. Roma smiled as she thought of the small girl, growing up with Bellamy had only increased the fire within her. And just because Bellamy broke up with her didn't mean that Roma was going to 'break-up' with Octavia. She was as close to a little sister as Roma would ever get.

Letting out a sigh, she raised her fist to knock on the door. Bellamy probably wasn't home – and Roma really needed to talk some sense into that girl. It had been irresponsible to call that morning – who knows how things would have played out if Roma hadn't checked her jealousy after seeing the gorgeous blonde girl standing in the Blake's living room, wearing nothing but Bell's shirt. As it was it had been difficult not to claim 'MINE', and instead to make light of an extremely awkward situation.

But honestly, Roma liked the girl. It had been obvious that Bellamy was extremely interested in her, and the reverse was true. But she knew why Octavia had called her, however ill-advised. The girl wanted to protect her brother, and the only parental figure she remembered. Roma also knew that O wanted she and Bellamy back together more than Roma did.

Which was saying a lot.

But Roma would never pursue something with Bell again – the ball was in his court. Too many broken hearts and not enough commitment had almost ruined their friendship after their relationship had ended.

And obviously Bellamy had moved on. She hadn't seen that quiet relief in his eyes when she let herself into the apartment. He didn't need her anymore. But it was clear that Octavia still wanted her around.

It felt like forever that she'd been waiting, and still no answer at the door. Sighing, Roma reached into the potted plant by the front door and felt for the little frog sculpture (really it was more of a piggy bank, and way too obvious as a key holder. For a cop Bellamy was awful about security) and unlocked the door before replacing everything as she found it and stepping through the door.

* * *

Clarke was wallowing in self-pity.

That was really the only way to describe what was happening.

She'd woken up still drunk, covered in dew, curled between Jasper and Monty.

The three had started their morning by day-drinking and avoiding her mother's phone calls, giggling between sips of moonshine and basking in the morning rays.

But recklessness can only last for so long before real life starts to creep back in, and by noon on that Saturday, they were bundled up – relatively sober – and Clarke had been deposited on her doorstep. Sneaking into the house while on the wrong side of tipsy was not fun – and the irritation she felt was only magnified when she saw her mother's note on the fridge.

Her mother had flown back to Phoenix for the weekend to tie up some loose ends with the house. What really irked her was the fact that Clarke had had no clue. She lost an opportunity to see Wells, and to say one last good-bye to her childhood home.

And the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Forgoing the water she went to the kitchen for, she stumbled back to her bag – grabbing her cell phone from her purse, Clarke squinted as she scrolled through her contacts.

As she held the phone to her ear, dull ring helped soothe her before she heard the deep baritone she missed most in the world.

" _Clarke?"_

She sunk into the couch, releasing a sigh as she fell.

" _Clarke? I can hear your breathing. Don't be creepy."_

The laughter escaped her before she could stop it, "I missed you Wells. I  _miss_  you."

" _Hey. Your mom is here."_

"Yeah, I just saw the note. I don't know why she didn't tell me – "

" _I asked the same thing. Apparently, you're not adjusting well and coming back would've been too confusing. My father started psycho-analyzing you through your mother, I tried to say that the might not have the whole story but – you know how they get."_

Clarke felt a scoff escape her, "I do. Doctor Mom and Doctor Dad – at it again. We're just lucky they aren't diagnosing any disorders yet."

The silence on the other end of the line made her nervous.

"They aren't, right?"

Silence.

"Wells. You're scaring me. Please tell me the prescription pad hasn't come out."

" _Clarke – I cannot tell a lie. I'm like Pinocchio."_

"Motherfuck – what the hell do I have now? Narcissistic Personality Disorder? Bi-polar depression?"

" _From what I heard this morning, you're exhibiting some symptoms of BPD. And Dad thinks you would benefit from resuming your sessions. Phone or Skype is recommended."_

Clarke leaned forward onto her elbows as she buried her free hand in her curls.

"Are you fucking serious? Borderline Personality Disorder? God."

Through her frustration, Clarke found herself standing and started to pace about the living room.

"Can't I be a fucking teenager? Anxiety, depression, impulsive behavior. That's all a part of being a kid! Let alone a kid who was just transplanted halfway across the country with few friends and even less to do! And it's not like mom knows about the drinking – "

Clake winced as she caught herself before she said anymore.

" _Drinking? Clarke, I mean… I know we got those fakes a while back – but it's not like we ever actually meant to use them. Are you drinking? Have you thought about… you know… anything…?"_

"Wells, if you're asking if I want to kill myself the answer is no. Self-destructive behavior? Sure. Suicide – no. Besides I don't have half of the symptoms of BPD! I swear – if it weren't for my mother I'd be perfectly sane."

To his credit, Wells did laugh at that, but Clarke could still sense his underlying worry.

" _You promise that you'll call if that changes, right? You may be halfway across the country – but you're still my best friend."_

"Back atchya, worrywart."

Clarke didn't move until she heard the disconnect on his end. Her buzz was completely dead at this point.

Fuck it – self destructive or not, she needed a drink.

Hopefully, that bartender hadn't heard about her whole underage thing yet.

* * *

Needless to say, Bellamy hadn't said shit to Wick – or if he had, the bartender definitely didn't give a fuck.

"Cinderella! You're back!"

The smile on the blonde man's face was genuine as Clarke slid onto the barstool hours after her phone call with Wells. He moved quickly, sliding a shot of vodka in front of her with a wink before she had time to respond.

"Your prince isn't here tonight, but we'll keep this our little secret until he does."

Clarke raised her eyebrow at the tiny glass of clear liquid in front of her, unsure if vodka was where she saw this night going. Ever attentive, Wick leaned against the bar in front of her, "Alright Princess, last time you were here it was obvious you were wallowing."

Clarke snuck in a shrug and a half nod before he continued, "You proceeded to go home with tall, dark, and mysterious before sneaking out. You haven't been back since – which to me could mean you're avoiding him, or you haven't had a reason to come out. But – now you're here. You don't look nearly so depressed, so you're here for fun. Yes?"

Clarke didn't even get a response out this time.

"Princess – I have never met a person that vodka didn't help in the fun department. Sure – it tastes like shit and could probably be used to strip the paint off of the walls, but give it thirty minutes and you'll be ready for whatever happens."

Releasing a sigh, Clarke didn't have a choice but to smirk as she grabbed the shot glass, "Touché. Here's to fun."

Puffing out her cheeks, and breathing out as much as she could, Clarke brought the shooter to her lips and tipped back as quickly as humanly possible.

That didn't help the taste – and dear mother of God was it bad.

Vodka was not fun.

Apparently, her expressions were all over her face if Wick's reaction was anything to go by.

He was completely doubled over, clutching his stomach, and laughing loudly. And instead of words – which were closer to impossible than she cared to admit – Clarke thanked him the only way possible, with her middle finger extended straight into the air.

Luckily for Clarke, the second, third and fourth shots went down slightly more smoothly than the first.

An hour after she'd arrived, she was oddly happy – her blood felt warm and as she moved she felt tingles run up her arms and over her skin.

She felt alive.

Which is why she hardly noticed when someone slid into the seat next to her, scooting closer until their arms were brushing. And she definitely wasn't aware that that they'd bought her a drink until Wick slid it in front of her with wide eyes, and a 'you-go-girl' look on his face. Because Clarke had definitely not ordered a vodka-cranberry.

After staring blankly at the drink in front of her for a couple seconds, she turned to the person at her side, "Thanks – but I can't possibly accept this –"

"Nonsense. You're stunning and I wanted to."

Clarke felt her cheeks flush and let out a small smile as she reached for the drink in front of her, "Well. Thank you. Clarke, by the way."

"Lexa," the woman next to her replied, "My name is Lexa. And when you finish that, I'll buy you another."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom.
> 
> Feed my muse.  
> (A.K.A. love me. Artists are needy)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr. bellarke-trashcan  
> I have no idea what I'm doing. Literally.


End file.
